Throwing in the Towel
by A Completely Sane Writer
Summary: Even Dark Lords know when to give up sometimes. Plot heavily references Naruto, but is not a crossover.


**Throwing in the Towel**

 **AN: A random idea that stuck me one day and I felt the need to write up. Apologies if I get some Harry Potter lore wrong, it has been a little while since I actually read the original series and I'm too lazy to go back and reread them. I did not put this as a crossover with Naruto, because while the plot revolves around a reference to the series the story itself is set in the Potterverse. Story starts in summer before Year 4.**

Voldemort was feeling rather philosophical.

It had been well over a decade since his death at the hands of Harry Potter, and he just couldn't seem to get his body back. And even disregarding the fact that he couldn't progress with his plans without a body (well, not really anyway) wandering around as a formless spirit was limiting in a number of other ways. He couldn't touch anything, which severely limited his ability most things. After a while, he had realized that going insane from boredom would put something of a damper on his plans, so he had been forced to find a solution.

And a solution he did find, though it had grated him to his very core.

He had ultimately realized that while he couldn't pick up any books to read, he could read books held by other people. The largest problem with this had been that wizards could see spirits, so he couldn't read any magical books. Thus, he was stuck in the situation he was in right now.

The great Dark Lord Voldemort; reduced to reading over unsuspecting muggles shoulders.

The fact that he was forced into something so beneath him to stave off insanity had at first made him so bitter he refused to do so for quite some time, but he inevitably had caved in and read through some muggle books and comics. (The magical world did have comics as well, although their pictures moved.)

Fortunately, he had been forced to admit that while muggles may be wizard kinds lesser in every other aspect; they were actually competent at creating sources of entertainment.

The current series he was reading interested him quite a bit. It was a story about ninja's who used techniques that were basically just a form of magic, which had further mollified him when he began reading, since it was _technically_ entertainment revolving around magic. Currently however, there was one specific character that was making him question a few things.

The Snake ninja, Orochimaru.

He had liked the character from the start; between his snake motif, curse marks, and his ambition for power Voldemort had immediately related to the man. And so the ninja's current actions were puzzling him quite a bit. From what Voldemort was reading, Orochimaru was just… giving up. Deciding it wasn't worth the hassle to fight against people he didn't stand a chance again.

It puzzled him so much he felt the need to think back on his own past actions.

" _Or more accurately, failures."_ He mused grimly. Indeed, nothing he had done had gone right. Oh, he had done okay in his early days, but since the war, nothing had gone his way.

Goes to kill the one year old Potter so the prophecy is negated? Potter reflects his Killing Curse, somehow.

Possessing Quirrell to steal the Philosopher's Stone? Potter kills him.

His diary horcrux lets loose a Basilisk? Potter kills it with a bloody sword.

" _And I'm still not sure how he pulled off that last one…"_

Every attempt at coming back to resume his takeover of the wizarding world had gone horribly wrong. Did Orochimaru perhaps have the right of things?

Was it time to just… give up?

"… _This requires contemplation."_

And so contemplate is what he did, for days on end, before finally coming to a conclusion, and subsequently, a decision.

And following that, a plan.

Voldemort had already met up with Wormtail, so all that was needed now was a little tweaking of the plan to come back. Not much would even change there really.

" _Now, off to rig a Triwizard Tournament…"_ He grinned, and cackled evilly.

He still wasn't giving up the evil laugh, Merlin damnit.

 **Not Quite a Year Later, in a Certain Graveyard**

Harry Potter was tied to tombstone.

After grabbing the Triwizard cup with Cedric, they had both found themselves transported to graveyard, where a man Harry was all too familiar with had tied him up, and then proceeded to do the same to Cedric before stunning him at the instruction of a horrid, raspy voice coming from an ugly baby like creature.

Harry watched in horror as Wormtail cut off his hand and dropped it into a large cauldron, then walked over to him, shaking from the pain. Wormtail made a large cut across Harry's arm and collected the blood, before going to drop it in the cauldron as well.

"Don't be so reckless you fool, we don't want to hurt him!" The voice rasped out.

"Y-yes Master!" Wormtail squeaked out.

He then proceeded to drop some sort of dusty substance (immediately identified as the bone of Voldemort's father as Wormtail called out the words to the ritual) into the cauldron, which proceeded to simmer for a few moments. Harry then watched in shock as a tall and rather disturbingly naked figure arose from the cauldron.

"…For Merlin's sake Wormtail you idiot, robe me already!" Voldemort doomed, now resurrected from the grave.

If Voldemort himself was being perfectly honest, this wasn't really the way he had wanted to come back. There was now no hope of returning his former good looks, and he had really wanted something similar to the Edo Tensei technique he had also read about in the Naruto series. But sadly, no such ritual had existed, and he didn't want to be shackled to someone's will anyway.

" _I did so want the unlimited regeneration and stamina. Oh well…"_

Turning his attention back to the currently sniveling Wormtail, he ignored the man's request to be gifted a new hand and pulled back the sleeve of his right arm, revealing the Dark Mark. He pressed down on the mark, causing it to turn black and announce to all marked Death Eaters it was time to return to him.

" _I do so hope most of them show up. It would be rather tedious to track them all down…"_

Ignoring the still sniveling Wormtail and the shouting Potter, Voldemort waited a few minutes for his servants to arrive. And one by one, they slowly began to do so.

After all of them had arrived and fallen to their knees, Voldemort began his speech. It was the same one he had always planned on giving, but it was going to end quite a bit different this time.

"…But Lord Voldemort is forgiving!" He boomed in third person for dramatic effect, after finishing his spiel about how he was so disappointed in them all.

"I will forgive your forsaking of me, if you can all do just one simple task."

"Anything Master, anything!" Random Death Eater #24 called out desperately. "Do you wish for us to kill the Potter child?"

"No, I will deal with him myself." This was technically true; Voldemort did plan on dealing with Potter, just not in the way they were all thinking. "I have a much simpler order: Close your eyes, stick your fingers in your ears, and go 'lalalala'."

"…Master?" One particularly brave and stupid Death Eater called out hesitantly.

"Do it now, or your lives are all forfeit!" Well, their lives were forfeit anyway, but they didn't need to know that. Rapidly, all the gathered Dead Eaters proceeded to do as their master ordered.

Waiting until everyone had started chanting, the Dark Lord raised his wand, pointed it at Wormtail (he was the closest) and spoke two words that would forever alter destiny.

" _Avada Kedavra._ "

Wormtail slumped to the ground, dead.

The Dark Lord turned his wand to the gathered Death Eaters who were still chanting as if their lives depended on it.

" _Well, as far as their aware, it does."_ Voldemort thought sardonically. He fired off several Killing Curses in quick succession, mumbling monotonously as he went.

"Nott, Avery, Crabbe, Goyle, Yaxley, Lucious…" One by one, every single Death Eater fell dead on the ground. Once finished with his work, Voldemort conjured two swords and fired spell cutting the ropes binding Harry, who was at this point staring in shock.

"W-Why!?" Harry yelled in astonishment.

The Dark Lord smirked. "Because I've come to the realization that it's not worth tempting fate by fighting an enemy who happens to be a prophesied hero." He tossed one of the swords toward him. "Now I could use your help with this, and I think you'll find satisfaction in it. Consider it a sign of good will."

Harry glared. "You killed my parents!"

"I offered to let them live, but they wouldn't get out of my way. My apologies, but I did what I had to at the time. And regardless, it's in the past now. Now you have a choice. Either grab the sword and help me take the heads off my now deceased followers, or at least stay out of my way while I do it," He raised his wand at Harry, a Killing Curse already on his lips. "Or go for your revenge, and we'll see just how far that prophecy helps keep you alive."

Harry stood still and silent for a moment.

Then, ever so slowly, he picked up the sword.

 **A Few Hours Later, in Albus Dumbledore's Office**

Dumbledore reclined back in his chair, feeling rather happy with how the events of the day had gone. Aside from the issue with the fake Alastor, everything had gone rather well. Harry and Cedric had both returned with the Triwizard Cup, were both crowned as winners, albeit with some grumbling from Bagman. ("But there's only supposed to be one winner!" The man had complained, before Dumbledore had hinted he should just let it go.) Harry had given his half of the winning money to the Weasley twins, and everything turned out okay. Albus was honestly rather surprised, when the fake Moody was discovered, he had expected Voldemort had been making some ploy or another to come back. As he sat contemplating the events of the day, the door to his office swung open. Albus had made the password easy to guess on purpose, he honestly didn't mind occasional visits from the students, but if he didn't put anything in place he'd never get anything done. Harry stepped into the office, and Albus looked up from his desk. "Harry my boy, what can I do for you?" Harry looked extremely nervous.

"Well, you see sir, there's someone out there who wants to talk to you… but I don't think you're going to be all that happy to see them…"

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow. "Well whoever it is, don't worry." He called out. "You can come in!"

As a tall, bald, snake faced man walked in the door, Albus' eyes widened in shock.

"Tom." He said, barely above a whisper.

Voldemort grinned. "Albus. It's nice to see you."

"You managed to come back."

"Evidently, since I'm standing right here. But is that any way to great an old acquaintance?"

Dumbledore stood up, Elder Wand in hand. There was no trace of the kind old man in his eyes, though a sliver of weariness could be detected. "What are you here for, Tom?"

Voldemort continued smiling. "Why, I've come to announce my formal surrender."

"Don't play games with me."

The Dark Lord sighed. "I'm actually being serious." He raised the large bag he had been holding in his hand, and threw it onto the table. "Open it, why don't you?"

Not taking his eyes off Voldemort, Albus picked up the bag. It was heavy and oddly moist. Hesitantly, he slowed opened, and took a look inside.

If not for years of learning to maintain his composure, the old man would've thrown up on the spot.

"T-Tom! What in Merlin's name is this?!"

Voldemort stared at him. "Why, it's the heads of several Death Eaters formerly under, shall we say, my employ. All of them are dead, but I could only fit so many heads in the bag." He paused. "Well, not every Death Eater. A few didn't show up, a few are in Azkaban, and dear Severus is currently under your employ."

Dumbledore leaned back in his chair, the weariness now completely adorning his face. "Why, Tom? Why all this?"

"Funnily enough, the boy asked me a similar question. Because in short, my odds of success as a Dark Lord are depressing slim, and I finally realized that. This," He motioned at the bag. "Is proof of my surrender. Make no mistake Albus; I fully intend to become a productive member of society. Why, I've even given up some of my hatred for muggles. It's hard to begrudge them when they make such good entertainment to enjoy."

Albus looked at Voldemort. "I never expected this."

"I'd be highly surprised if you had."

Dumbledore shook his head. "Very well Tom. If you truly mean it, I'll let you go. It's up to you to convince the Ministry however, not that you'll have any trouble with that, I'm sure." His gaze hardened. "But remember this. You've done some terrible things."

The "if you ever step a foot out of line" went unspoken.

"Yes. Yes I have."

The two men stared each other in the eye for a long moment.

A minute later, Dumbledore finally broke the impromptu staring contest. "Is that everything Tom?"

Voldemort grinned again. "Well… there is one more thing."

"What is it?"

"I do still want the Defense position."

Albus looked at Voldemort in bewilderment. "Tom, if I wasn't going to give you the position when I only _thought_ you were going to turn evil, why would I give it to you now that you have the blood of thousands on your hands?"

"I'll remove the curse on the position and work for minimum wage."

Albus sat in his chair, considering.

"And I'll get you a lifetime supply of lemon drops."

"You're hired."

 **Sometime Later**

As it turned out, everything worked out remarkably well. Fudge and the ministry put up only a token protest before rolling over to Voldemort like they did just about everything else. Fudge ended up being so terrified of Voldemort that he accidently added, "now for the love of Merlin, please don't kill me" in his speech giving Voldemort an official pardon.

He wasn't reelected the next year.

Severus was utterly terrified at having his former Master as his coworker, and took an early retirement shortly after Voldemort took the Defense position. When it was announced that he was being replaced, all the Hogwarts students threw a massive party.

Interestingly enough, quite a number of the staff members showed up to said party.

Voldemort ended up being a remarkably competent Defense Professor. Apparently, knowing the Dark Arts so intimately made you a very good teacher on defending against them. Combining that with his (at times sociopathic so) humorous demeanor, "Professor Riddle" was the most popular Defense Professor in Hogwarts history, and he held the position for nearly a hundred years before retiring.

He also did some public service work, though that was mainly because he was sick of people running in terror of him whenever he went out in public and wanted to improve public opinion of him. It was funny the first ten times, but when the shopkeepers were all too scared to sell him anything, it got rather annoying.

Harry never truly forgave Voldemort for killing his parents, but he decided it wasn't worth trying to kill him.

Voldemort never got rid of his horcrux's, despite Dumbledore's consistent pestering to do so. He paid the price for his immortality; he wasn't going to get rid of it anytime soon.

" _Merlin,"_ Tom thought as he thought back on the events of his life. _"If there was ever a decision I don't regret,"_

" _It was throwing in the towel."_

 **AN: Hope you enjoyed, and please review.**

 **Also, please refrain from flaming me with complaints of how Voldemort got off too easy, or how Dumbledore wouldn't have agreed to any of what happened. I am aware of this, but this is humor story and some suspension of disbelief is required.**

 **And hey, it worked for Orochimaru, now didn't it?**


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